


The Lemondrop

by happylemonsociety



Series: Real-World Maze Runner Fics [2]
Category: The Maze Runner Series - All Media Types
Genre: Domestic Fluff, F/M, Fanfic, Fluff, Friendship, Gen, High School, Lemon, School, Skipping Class, Teresa Agnes and Thomas (Maze Runner), shitty car ehehe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-03
Updated: 2018-10-03
Packaged: 2019-07-24 15:25:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 643
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16177880
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/happylemonsociety/pseuds/happylemonsociety
Summary: Teresa drags Thomas out of school and Thomas' car is almost an asshole.





	The Lemondrop

**Author's Note:**

> Written to my A Capella playlist  
> ( https://open.spotify.com/user/gcdpeace/playlist/1jp9j2a4hAiCOjk1odDAgr?si=yDlTAnhhTlqKSMieB0mYgA )

She spun the pen on her fingertip as a trademark cheshire grin spilled lopsidedly onto her face.

“Want to see how much trouble we can get into?”

“Teresa, I am not getting pulled into another one of your schemes. It’s a Tuesday.” I check my watch.

“I have math in twenty minutes, and you know Mrs. Haddon will unleash an absolute shitstorm on me if I’m late again.”

Her grin simply grew wider as she dropped the pen into her palm and slid achingly slowly off of the table.

“Mrs. Haddon is nowhere near as fun as me, and you, Thomas, don’t give a shit about algebra,” she whispered into my ear. Her arm curled around my side, stealing the dog-eared and ink-stained textbook from my grasp. She slipped the book into the faded blue backpack assigned to me by the school, and then zipped it shut, throwing it at me and spinning to face me. I let out a sigh that turned into a laugh halfway through exhalation.

“Alright! Alright. But you owe me at least one ice-cream.” I slipped my hand into hers as we ducked past the school reception and ran through the front entrance, onto the street and into the sun. I knew that there would be hell to pay later, but my god did I know it would be worth it. We sprinted towards the parking lot- towards my faded yellow shitbox of a car, towards her plans and my dreams, towards freedom. At least for one day, school and families and responsibilities didn’t have to exist. I fell into the driver’s seat as Teresa fought with the passenger door handle.

“Pull up, to the right, and then down. You know this, you’re in my car practically every day.” She let out a dramatic sigh, but executed the motion with the flawless ease of someone used to the movement. As her ass hit the seat, she yelped.

“Is it a spider? IsweartogoThomasdon’tletitbeaspiderohmigodnothankyou, Thomas?” Her throaty laugh filled the tiny lemondrop I paid to maintain.

“What? Why are you laughing? I don’t get i- wait. The spring. Your ass hit the spring.” Without ceasing her laughter, Teresa’s head fell into her hands, a crude imitation of a nod.

"You asshole." I muttered. Slapping my hands palm down onto the dashboard, I threw her a fierce look, daring her to disobey.

"C'mon. You know the drill." She sighed heavily and placed her hand on the dash as well.

"Dear Lemondrop. You're a shitbox, but you're our shitbox. We want to remind you that we love you and we know you won't let us down." Two heavy dash slaps later and I turned the key in the ignition. We were treated to the beautiful sound of my car rumbling to life. 

"Do we really have to do that everytime?" She grumbled, arms crossed and knees bent up against the glovebox in front of her.

"The one time that we didn't do it we were stranded on the highway for three hours, remember? I'm not taking any chances."

"You're so fuckin' superstitious," she laughs. 

"Never walk under a ladder, never put new shoes on a table, never pass salt from hand to hand. All bad luck." She raises a single eyebrow, incredulity personified.

I continue.

"Putting on an item of clothing inside out accidentally is good luck and so is being shit on by a bird." Her mouth drops open.

"Bull. A bird shitting on you is awful. Obviously." A laugh falls from my throat, surprising and honest. Teresa's brown hair is golden in the sunlight streaming through the car. She winds down the window and grins at me in the midst of the gust of wind that attacks us. 

"Eyes on the road, Tommy. Eyes on the road." I place a hand on her knee and smile. Eyes on the road. 


End file.
